Moving Target
by Center of the Galaxy
Summary: Sam's life is on the line when he is the target of another rogue hunter who loves nothing more than chasing humans and then killing them. Can Dean protect his brother and prevent this hunter from killing him? *limp/hurt!Sam, protective!Dean*
1. Aftermath

_**Author's Note: **__Hello everyone and welcome to my first Supernatural multi-chapter fan fiction! I'm so glad that I finally got a good enough idea to begin writing about. So, this story takes place directly after "Hunted" and there will be plenty of protective Dean and hurt Sam, which I love! Please enjoy! _

"Admit it, Dean, you know I'm right," The woman before him began, smiling almost sinisterly. She twirled a curl of her platinum blonde hair around her finger and took another step towards him. Dean didn't flinch, simply held up the gun and waited for her to tell him what he wanted to know. "Gonna kill me, sugah?"

"Tell me where Sam is. " Dean ordered, his tone devoid of all other emotions except fury.

"Sam this, Sam that," The woman prattled, chuckling softly. "Don't worry, sugah, ah made sure that it didn't hurt him." Panic seized Dean and the older brother struggled to keep his fake façade up. He couldn't let this bitch get the upper hand, not with Sam's life on the line. "You always worry about that boy, don't you?"

"He's my brother," Dean affirmed, still ready to shoot the woman dead, not really caring if she was a human or not. "Now, tell me where he is or I'll kill you."

"Kill me?" The woman echoed. "You'd kill an innocent bystander?"

"You're far from innocent." Dean retorted.

"You should thank me for what ah've done," The woman continued, ignoring Dean's snide comment. "Ah've seen Sam's future and trust me, Gordon is right. Sam needs to die."

"Where is he?" Dean spat, fury fully consuming him. "You tell me or I'll—!"

"It's a shame, Dean," The woman said with a small smile on her ruby red lips. "Ah thought you'd understand." She stepped aside and under the streetlights, Dean could make out Sam's body—limp and unmoving. "Don't worry. It was painless."

"Sam!"

Sam didn't move and Dean suddenly feared the worst.

Sam was dead.

* * *

_**One week ago—**_

"How do you feel?" Dean asked for what seemed like the billionth time in the past hour.

"I'm fine," Sam replied, his voice a mix of exasperation and exhaustion. "It's just a few cuts."

"A few cuts?" Dean echoed incredulously. "Sammy, Gordon beat you with a gun and almost killed you!"

"Calm down."

"Don't you tell me to calm the hell down!" Dean bellowed. "Dammit, Sammy, don't you understand? Gordon tried to hunt you, like you were a demon or something!"

"Dean—"

"And the fact that he said he had Roadhouse connections," Dean continued on, ignoring Sam's pleas for relaxation. "Sammy, he could've told other hunters. More people could be after you. Dammit!" Dean slammed his hand on the steering wheel of the Impala and Sam winced as the two flew over a speed bump in the road.

"Dean, panicking is going to get us nowhere," Sam explained rationally. "We need to find a motel and get some rest. Maybe we'll think of something in the morning."

"How the hell can you be so calm right now?" Dean growled. "People are trying to kill you!"

"And what do you want me to do, Dean?" Sam snapped, eyes flashing with anger. "Bitch about what's going to happen to me if more hunters come after me? Look, I'm freaked, I really am, but I'm tired and I'm hurt and all I want to do is find a motel and get some sleep, okay?" Dean bit back another snide comment when he finally looked at his brother. He could see the exhaustion eating away at Sam and while the blood on his injuries had stopped flowing, Dean still hadn't had a chance to fully clean them up or bandage them. He could see the logic in Sam's words and despite the panic that threatened to overtake him and rightly so because things were just so messed up right now, Dean bit back the fear and put on his everything's-going-to-be-okay-because-I'm-a-big-brother face.

Which meant that right now, he was going to put his fake façade and pretend like he knew how the hell to protect Sam.

"You're right."

"What?" Sam mumbled.

"I'm not repeating it again, Sammy," Dean snapped and then let a small smirk grace his face. "Now, let's find a motel, all right?"

"Uh-huh," Sam muttered, his eyes drowsily closing. "Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?" Sam didn't respond for a few minutes and Dean figured he had fallen asleep.

"Are we gonna be okay?" The question was said in such a weak tone—so fragile, so frightened—that it reminded Dean of when Sam had been sick as a little child. How many times had Sam asked that very same question of him when they were little? Dean placed a hand on Sam's shoulder and squeezed it gently, like he had done when comforting him when Sam had been younger.

"Hell yeah," Dean told him comfortingly. "It's us against the world, Sammy. We're going to be just fine."

Sam didn't reply and Dean took that as a sign that he understood what he had been trying assure him of. Dean then focused his gaze back on the road, speeding down the darkened road as if he could out-run the hunters that could be after Sam. Dean knew he was being paranoid, but after he had almost lost Sam tonight to a rogue hunter, he didn't want to take any chances. He had to find a place to hole up with Sam and plan their next strategy—laying low was a top priority, but he also had to find a way to temporarily disappear. No Ellen, no Jo, no Ash, no Bobby—no one could know anything until Dean felt they were in a same spot.

He would protect Sam at all costs.

* * *

"You understand what I'm telling you, Amber?" Gordon talked into the phone. Across the glass, a young blonde woman flashed a grin as she playfully tugged on one of her curls.

"Yes, sugah," Amber purred into the phone. "Ah understand just fine."

"Good," Gordon replied. "So, you take care of him?"

"Honey, it's the least ah could do after everything you've done for me!" Amber exclaimed. "Don't worry, Sam Winchester is as good as dead."

"That's what I like to hear." Gordon told her. "It's good to know that there are still hunters like you out there, Amber."

Amber grinned and then hung up the phone. Grinning, she practically skipped out of the jail. She loved the thrill of the hunt and this Sam Winchester seemed like the perfect guy for her.

"Why are you so happy?" An inmate shouted to her from the walls of the prison. Amber winked at the direction the voice came from. Why shouldn't she be happy?

After all, she had a new target to hunt.

_**Author's Note: **__Well, what did you think? Please review and chapter 2 will be up soon! _


	2. Thoughts

_**Author's Note: **I really like this chapter. I feel like I finally hit my stride. To answer a question, no this is not a death fic. Just be prepared for a lot of hurt Sam and protective Dean! Anyways, enjoy! _

The motel they found was slightly nicer than their usual fare.

As Dean and Sam walked into the room, Dean could instantly make out that the sheets were a brighter white and the bed wasn't lumpy. There was no bizarre décor to be had—just tasteful touches of art on the walls. If Dean hadn't known any better, he would've suspected that they were in a hotel. Maybe life was giving them a break for once—a nice place for Sam to recover and for Dean to figure out what the hell they were going to do. Sam plopped on the bed and quickly removed his boots, the fatigue wearing him away as the adrenaline crashed.

"How are you doing?" Dean asked yet again, the protective brother side of him refusing to subside because, dammit, he had almost lost his brother tonight! Sam had almost been killed and blown up into a billion pieces! Sam said nothing, but Dean chuckled as he saw the "bitch-face" that Sam was currently sporting. Well, if he was all right enough to do that, then the injuries couldn't be too bad. "You need any stiches?"

"No," Sam mumbled, drowsiness coloring his tone. "I'm really okay."

"You sure you don't—"

"Dean, please," Sam pleaded. "I just want some sleep, okay?" The tone in Sam's voice unnerved Dean—it was a perfect match to when Sam had used to lie about what he was feeling to their dad. Their Dad had never noticed Sam when he was like that, but Dean had always been able to read Sam like an open book. Nothing ever got past Dean—nothing.

"Sammy." Dean didn't really know what to say to his younger brother. Sam had been treated like a demon and had almost died for it. What did you say about something like that? How did you move past that? Dean knew that when their father had told him to save Sam or kill him, it had really bothered his younger brother, but to have it confirmed by someone else? That had to be extremely painful. What could Dean say? "I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you."

It was a vow and Dean meant every word. He would never let Sam get hurt, not while he was still breathing. As long as Sam was safe, Dean could handle whatever else life decided to throw their way.

"I know you won't." For the first time all night, Sam let a small smile grace his features. Dean then coughed uncomfortably and Sam laughed fully.

"What?" Dean played along, allowing himself to deliberately exaggerate his emotions. "Chick-flick moments are your thing!"

"You started." Sam retorted.

"Wow, Sam," Dean exclaimed. "What are you? 12?" The boys then both chuckled. With a sigh, Sam let himself lie completely on the bed and shut his eyes.

"You should get some sleep too, Dean," The youngest pointed out. "Everything is always better in the morning."

"Says who?" Dean retorted as he finished laying the salt lines.

"Everyone," Sam finished quietly, sleep already beginning to take him. Dean sighed, internally debating whether he should listen to his brother or go back to trying to figure out their next move. "Please, Dean."

"Fine, fine, Sleeping Beauty," Dean muttered as he flicked off the lights and removed his boots. Lying in the darkness, Dean tried to close his eyes and get his mind calm, but it was difficult with so many thoughts racing through his head. What was their next move? Who could they trust?

"Dean?"

"What Sam?"

"Thanks for coming after me today." Dean smiled—it was amazing how Sam had such a profound effect on him. 5 minutes ago, he was sure that he and Sam were both so screwed that there was no hope for them and now, he felt more optimistic.

"Anytime, Sammy."

The two fell asleep, their sleep peaceful and dreamless.

* * *

The morning brought a sense of calm and slight optimism. Sam was the first to rise, quickly getting up from the bed and then heading to the bathroom. Turning on the shower, Sam removed his clothes and then stepped into the warm spray of water. His tired muscles—sore from all that he had put them through yesterday—seemed to relax and Sam finally took a full deep breath in. The events of the previous day came tumbling into his mind—the fear he had felt knowing he was walking into a trap, the panic when he couldn't seem to get the upper hand on Gordon and the relief when he saw Dean was safe. Somehow, he had managed to survive the deadly encounter, but he knew Dean was right. More hunters could come after him and who knows what Gordon had said at the Roadhouse.

Regretfully, Sam turned off the shower before it became cold. He had to save some of the water for Dean. Sighing, Sam stepped out of the shower and quickly changed. Staring at the mirror, Sam glanced at the cuts on his face, pleased that they weren't that serious and that they weren't infected. Quietly, Sam shut the bathroom door behind him, pleased to see that Dean was still snoring softly on the bed. Sam always loved seeing Dean sleep—it was the only time that his older brother seemed to be totally at peace, without a care in the world. He wondered if Dean was dreaming about something and if so, what? Or did Dean simply see nothing in his sleep like Sam? Did he dream about Mom or Dad? Unlike Sam, Dean actually remembered what Mom was like and how Dad acted before he had become obsessed with hunting. Sam wondered what it would've been like if he had never been born. Would Dean be married and settled down with kids of his own? Would his mom and dad be living happily together without any knowledge of what really hid in the dark?

Sam would never tell Dean that he thought about this—his protective older brother would brush it off and tell him to stop worrying, but Sam could never help but feel as if he was somehow responsible for this mess? Because of him, his mom had died, his father had become a hunter obsessed with revenge then later died for it, and his brother was practically carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Guilt washed over Sam. If only there was something he could do . . .

Dean shifted in his sleep and Sam stiffened. Waiting a few seconds to see if Dean would settle, Sam decided that he would go out and get Dean some breakfast and maybe even a slice of pie. It was the least he could do and as Sam quickly jotted down a note for his brother, Sam grinned, picturing Dean's face as he got the pie.

His brother deserved it.

* * *

"Hi there, sugah," A southern voice greeted Sam as he stepped up to the counter. "How can ah help you?" Sam couldn't help but be taken in by her perfect ringlets of platinum blonde hair. Her blue eyes were piercing and Sam quickly spied her name—Amber.

"I'd like some pancakes please," Sam began. "And do you have pie?" Amber's eyes widened in shock and she mockingly punched Sam.

"Pie? Sugah, course we got pie!" Amber quickly pulled out a menu and Sam's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets at how long the list was. "Ah like the chocolate cream pie, myself."

"I'll take your word for it," Sam replied, a smile lighting up his features. "Two slices please."

"To go or to stay?" Amber asked as she hit the buttons on the cash register.

"To go, please." Sam answered.

"Name please?"

"Sam."

"Sam?" Amber's eyes lit up and an almost sinister-like grin spread over her face. "That's such a wonderful name! My little brother's name is Sam. Small world, right?"

"Yes, ma'am." Sam replied.

"Miss," Amber corrected. "Ah'm not that old, sugah." Sam chuckled. She smiled again and then she quickly took Sam's money from his outstretched hand and then put it away. "Just one moment." She vanished into the kitchen and returned with the pie and the pancakes. Packing them into bags, she handed them to Sam.

"Thank you."

"No problem," Amber told him with a grin. "Have a nice day!"

"I will, thanks." Sam told her as he exited through the diner door. Amber grinned. She hadn't expected Sam to come walking to her and now that he had, that saved her a lot of trouble. She took off her apron and then walked into the kitchen where the bodies of the chef and the waitress that she had stolen the outfit from lied on the floor.

"Thanks for the help!" Amber called cheerfully as she left the diner.

She had to get the next part of her plan up and running.

_**Author's Note: **Yep. Amber is insane. How are you liking the story? Please enjoy! _


	3. Nightmare

**_Author's Note: _**_Wow, this is such a long chapter for me. I spent most of the day working on it and I'm really happy with the pace that I've been able to keep on this story. Please enjoy! _

_ "If you can't save your brother, you have to kill him."_

_ Dean could hear his father's last words echoing around him as he stood in the middle of a grassy field. A cool breeze ruffled his hair and Dean shut his eyes trying in vain to block out John's voice. He would save Sam—his little brother wouldn't die, not by Dean's hand and sure as hell not by anyone else's. Dean would kill anyone that even dared to think about taking his little brother away from him, human or not. Sam would live or Dean would die trying to protect him._

_ "Dean!" Dean opened his eyes to see Sam calling to him from further into the field. His younger brother's face beamed at him and Dean felt a smile tug at his lips. As long as he had Sam, everything would be okay. As long as he had Sam, he could get through anything. As long as he had Sam—_

_ It happened suddenly. The figure appeared beside Sam. Before Dean could even call out a warning or re-act, the shot had been fired with a sickening bang. His body frozen, Dean could only watch as Sam glanced down, the crimson color greedily devouring his white shirt. Dean watched in horror as the light went out in Sam's eyes and he collapsed to the ground in a heap next to the figure._

_ "Sammy!" Dean screamed as he forced his body to move, but found that he could only travel at a horrifyingly slow pace. By the time Dean made it to his brother's side, it was too late. Sam's eyes looked up at him—dark and unseeing. _

_ "I only did what you were too scared to do." The figure with the gun told Dean before vanishing. _

_ Dean held his brother's broken body, unashamedly crying._

* * *

"Sam!" Dean shouted as he came out of the dream, gasping for air and sweating. It took him a few seconds for the realization to set in that it was only a dream—a horrible nightmare. Dean ran a hand through his hair and tried to calm his pounding heart. It was all right; Sam was alive. No one had gotten him, and on Dean's watch, no one ever will.

The door opened and Dean jumped slightly as Sam walked into the room, a bag in his hands. Sam closed the door behind him and then sheepishly smiled when he saw that Dean was awake.

"Did I wake you?"

"No," Dean mumbled, trying to memorize every detail of his little brother. "Where'd you go?" Dean pointed to the bag and Sam grinned.

"Got a surprise for you," He seemed to be waiting for Dean's trademark smirk, but it never came. Dean was too busy trying to banish the vision of Sam falling to the ground, bleeding and dying and Dean not being to do a damn thing! "Everything okay?" Sam's voice pulled him out of his thoughts and Dean chose that moment to smirk slightly.

"Yeah," Dean lied. "What you bring?" Sam made a grand show of pulling out the two stacks of pancakes and then with a dramatic wave of his hand, Sam showed off the slices of pie.

"There's a diner nearby," Sam explained. "I thought after everything that happened, you might want some pie."

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean replied, sincerely and heartfelt. Sam grinned and the two settled into a comfortable silence as they ate their breakfast.

"So . . ." Sam began.

"Yeah?"

"What's the plan?" Sam asked as he slowly picked at his pancakes. Dean wondered how he was dealing with all of his. He had been the one that almost died after all. Yet he seemed to be dealing with it much better than Dean. Maybe it hadn't hit him yet, maybe any second now Sam would break down.

"We lay low," Dean began. "We don't tell anyone where we're going and we take a break from hunting until we're sure that Gordon didn't send anyone else to . . ." To kill you, to take you out, to torture you—the list went on and on. "Find you." Sam nodded, but avoided Dean's careful gaze. It seemed like his pie was the only thing he could focus on at the moment and Dean knew that this was just Sam's way of processing.

"Bobby?" Dean shook his head.

"We can't take any risks, Sammy."

"I know," Sam mumbled, sounding like a ten-year-old once again. "It's just . . . hard."

"What is?" Dean pressed, putting his food aside. Dean may not know how to keep Sam safe at the moment, but he sure as hell knew how to comfort him. Sam didn't say anything, still absorbed with his pie. "Sammy, what's hard?"

"This," Sam gestured to the room. "We're running from other hunters, Dean! It was bad enough before, but now . . . I mean, now we can't trust Bobby? We've known him for years!"

"I'm not saying we can't trust Bobby," Dean explained, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "I'm just saying that we just need to lay low." Sam shook his head, as if he wasn't buying the reason that was being provided.

"For how long?" Sam persisted.

"I don't know." Dean answered, shrugging his shoulders. Sam then placed the food on the table and stood suddenly. He met Dean's gaze for a few seconds before walking over to the door. "Where are you going?"

"I need to go running."

"Sam—" Dean protested. He couldn't risk letting his brother out of his sight, not now.

"Dean, please," Sam's voice was practically begging Dean to let him go. "I have to go running." Dean nodded his head slowly and then walked over to stand beside him.

"Do you mind me coming along then?"

"It's fine." Dean noted that Sam was so upset that he didn't even bother to make a snide comment about how Dean was a horrible runner.

Without another word, they were both out the door.

* * *

They ran for what seemed like hours—sometimes they would go at a slow trot, sometimes they would sprint. Dean was sure that his lungs were going to explode any minute now, but he didn't dare mention that to Sam. He knew that Sam wasn't kidding when he said he needed to run.

Running was Sam's way of dealing with a situation. Unlike Dean who turned to alcohol to deal with his issues, Sam would run. Whenever Sam had been in a fight with their dad, he had run and when Dean asked him why he ran, Sam simply explained it as a sort of freedom. He couldn't control what happened around him, Sam had said, but he could control how fast and how long he ran. Dean supposed that was a type of freedom—one small thing Sam could do in this world that seemed to be against them.

By the time they had come back to the room, Dean realized that they had been out for two hours. Sam tossed Dean a water bottle and Dean gratefully shot him a smile before greedily drinking up all the liquid in the bottle.

"You made it longer than I thought you would." Sam told his brother with a small smirk on his face.

"Well, what can I say?" Dean drawled. "I'm in pretty good shape."

"Uh-huh," Sam played along. "And that's why you're acting like you haven't had any water since last year."

"Hey, can't get dehydrated now, can I?" Dean playfully asked. Sam nodded his head in agreement and the two fell into a comfortable silence. Then, with a sigh, Sam ran a hand through his hair and met Dean's gaze. "What?"

"I'm sorry."

The words catch Dean off-guard. What in the world did Sam have to be sorry about? It was his fault that Gordon attacked Sam, his fault that he had lied in the first place about what John's last words had been. If anything, he should be apologizing to Sam.

"For what?" Dean questioned, his tone incredulous.

"For causing this trouble," Sam explained. "I mean, if it weren't for me—"

"No what-ifs, Sam," Dean growled, anger surging within him. Sometimes Sam could be so stupid! Here he was blaming himself for something that wasn't his fault. "It's not your fault."

"Oh, it's not?" Sam challenged, an eyebrow raised. "I'm the one that Gordon was chasing, not you Dean. I'm putting you in danger!"

"Screw that then!" Dean retorted. "I'm in danger every single day—"

"But now other hunters are putting you in more danger." Sam interjected, guilt dancing in those puppy-dog eyes of his. "Look, Dean, I've been thinking. Maybe we should split up—"

"Hell no, Sam!" Dean hissed, clearly pissed off.

"Just hear me out!" Sam yelled.

"I said no!" Dean snapped, practically daring his brother to challenge his order. Because that's what this was now—an order. Sam was not going to leave his sight, not while hunters were after him.

Especially not after his disturbing dream.

"Dean—" Dean held up a hand for silence to which Sam complied. Taking a deep breath in to calm himself, Dean took a step closer to his brother.

"We need to stick together, okay?"

"Okay." Sam nodded shakily, but Dean could still see that his younger brother still wasn't convinced that this was the best course of action. Before Dean could interject further; however, his cellphone rang. Glancing at the caller ID—Bobby—Dean wondered briefly if he should answer it. He trusted Bobby with his life but— "Answer it." Dean nodded and then hit the answer key.

"Hello?" Sam watched as Dean exchanged a few words with the older hunter before finally deciding to go outside and get some air. He was surprised to see a familiar face already sitting on the bench outside.

"Amber?" Sam called out cautiously before Amber quickly spun around and met his gaze.

"Sam?" She questioned in her southern drawl. Seeing it was him, her eyes lit up. "Well, ah'll be! It really is a small world after all!"

"I guess so," Sam conceded. "What are you doing here?" Amber twirled one of her ringlets around her finger and Sam came to sit beside her.

"Remembering."

"Remembering?"

"Yeah," She replied. "My brother died right at this spot five years ago." Concern immediately filled Sam's features.

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," Amber told him with a sigh. "It's my fault anyways. Ah let him out of my sight and that's how he . . ." Tears welled up in her eyes and Sam felt the need to comfort this girl that he barely even knew. "The car didn't see him in time. He died right here in this parking lot."

"I'm sure it wasn't your fault." Sam comforted as he placed a hand on her shoulder. Amber smiled sadly at him.

"Thanks Sam," She said, standing up. "It really means a lot to me." She glanced down at her watch and her mouth fell open in shock. "Well, dear Lord above, Ah'm gonna be late for my next shift!" She quickly jogged a few feet away before turning back around and calling, "Hey, Sam! If you decide to come back to the diner tonight, dinner's on me!"

"Thanks, that sounds great!" He shouted to her and she grinned genuinely.

"Ah'll see you then!" She then sprinted and vanished around a corner.

"Who was that?" Dean's voice startled Sam. The younger Winchester turned around to face his brother.

"What did Bobby say?" Sam's message was clear—_you can't hide things from me right now—_and Dean grimaced. "That bad?"

"He just wanted to see if we had gotten into some trouble because some of his hunting buddies were talking about you," Dean explained. "But Bobby said it was nothing bad. They were just wondering why you turned Gordon over to the police."

"How about because he's crazy?" Sam ventured and Dean chuckled.

"Bobby says that's the conclusion they reached," Dean glanced in the direction that Amber left. "Who was that?"

"Amber," Sam replied automatically. "She works at the local diner. She offered us some free food if we want to go back."

"Free food?" Dean mumbled, a bit skeptic.

"I kind of helped her out," Sam muttered. "Come on, we need to eat something." Dean wasn't sure what to make of Sam's answer, but against his better instincts he answered:

"Fine."

_**Author's Note: **What's Amber's game plan? Please review!_


	4. Vengeful

_**Author's Note: **__This chapter was incredibly hard for me to write and that's why it's a bit shorter than usual. Still, we get to see the beginnings of Amber's plans for Sam so I hope you all enjoy!_

Amber had to admit that she was good—certainly better than all the other hunters out there. Sure, she had broken what some hunters might deem "rules"—murdering humans, hurting other hunters for info—but in the end, she had managed to kill more demons than anyone else—with the exception of Gordon, of course.

And that's what Sam Winchester was—a demon. He might have the appearance of an angelic human now, but Amber knew that the evil inside of him would take control soon and then it would be too late for her to stop him. She had to kill him now, while he was still unaware as to her real identity and she had earned his trust.

There was just one small problem—Dean Winchester.

Gordon had informed her that Dean was fiercely protective of his little brother and would not hesitate about killing anything or anyone that tried to hurt his "Sammy". Amber smirked as she sauntered back into the diner. It wasn't that she couldn't handle Dean—she could—it was just that the plan she had in mind to deal with Sam would require Dean to trust her just a little bit. So, she had come up with the best plan in the creation of plans to deal with both Winchester brothers.

It would be flawless.

* * *

Dean stepped into the dinner with Sam and scoped the area out, checking for possible threats. No one was in at the moment and he could see Amber practically bouncing from the kitchen to the front counter with a pie in her hands. Seeing Sam, a grin lit up on her face.

"Sam, perfect timing!" She set the pie down on the counter and bounced over to the two boys, quickly pulling Sam into a hug. Dean smirked slightly, amused by the embarrassed look on Sam's face. As if seeing Dean for the first time, she released Sam and stuck her hand out. "Hi there! Ah'm Amber!" Dean shook her hand cautiously.

"Dean, Sam's brother." She energetically pushed the two of them towards a both and placed the pie down.

"Ah hope y'all like apple," She told the two boys. "Sorry. Charlie in the kitchen is running a bit slow so dinner might be a bit, but y'all enjoy the pie, okay?" Amber vanished behind the counter and Sam grinned.

"She's really nice." Sam commented and Dean simply nodded his head, choosing to withhold what he was really thinking from his brother. A few moments passed and then Sam sighed. "You don't like her." It came out as a statement, not an accusation.

"I never said that." Dean protested.

"You never had to," Sam answered. "I know that look."

"What look?" Dean challenged.

"The _I-think-she's-evil_ look," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "You gave me that same look about the librarian in Miami."

"And I was right!" Dean exclaimed proudly. "She was guilty."

"Of embezzling," Sam finished. "Nothing supernaturally related." Sam half-heartedly cut himself a slice of pie and began to poke at it with his fork. Dean frowned, wondering what he could say to his brother. He knew Sam was under a lot of stress—hell, he was too—but it was Dean's job to keep Sam safe, to keep him breathing. If that meant not becoming friends with the waitress and keeping Sam away from her, then that's what would have to happen.

He was about to say something to Sam when Amber's scream pierced the restaurant. Immediately, the two boys jumped up and grabbed their handguns.

"God," Amber swore as the two boys tore into the kitchen. Two bodies lay mangled on the floor. Blood was everywhere and Dean immediately scanned the surrounding area for some hints as to what had transpired. "Charlie, Marie!" Amber was shaking and clearly was going into shock. Dean swore softly under his breath and turned to his younger brother who simply nodded his head.

"Amber?" Sam called hesitantly, but the waitress would not allow her eyes to move away from the two bodies.

"What, why?" Her breath was coming in fits and was shallow. Her skin, once rosy, was becoming pallid and pale. "Ah don't understand."

"Amber," Sam tried again, this time getting the girl to avert her eyes and refocus them on Sam's face. Sam shot her a small smile. "Hey, I need you to breathe, okay? Nice and slow."

"Breathe?" Amber wheezed.

"Yeah," Sam replied, snaking an arm around her waist and guiding her to the door. "Deep, slow breaths." Dean listened as the girl tried to mimic Sam's breaths as the two walked into the diner. Alone, Dean surveyed the room and noted that the bodies had been nearly mutilated. Kneeling, he checked the ground for any traces of sulfur, but instead found black goo.

"Yahtzee." Dean whispered.

It looked like they had a vengeful spirit on their hands.

* * *

"They're dead." Amber mumbled, running a hand through her hair. Sam had finally managed to get her breathing under control and the two of them were sitting in a booth in the empty diner. Suddenly, Amber's eyes flashed with realization and she stood up. "The police! I need to call—"

"Don't." Dean interjected and Amber froze, hand hovering over the phone.

"Why not?" Amber asked.

"Find something?" Sam inquired.

"Yeah," Dean replied. "Ectoplasm."

"Damn." Sam cursed and confusion filled Amber's features.

"Ectoplasm?" Amber echoed. "As in that stuff ghosts make?"

"You sure?" Sam pressed and Dean nodded his head.

"No doubt about it." Dean said, grabbing a glass and filling it up with some coffee.

"Ah'm sorry, but y'all are crazy," Amber muttered. "You two do realize you're talkin' about ghosts, right?" The two boys shared a look that spoke volumes and Amber sat down once more. "This isn't happening. Ah'm not here. Just a bad dream—"

"Look, Amber," Dean began, not waiting to see if the girl would meet his gaze. "We need to get you someplace safe." Amber continued her chant of denial and Dean swore softly. "Some help she's gonna be."

"Can you blame her?" Sam questioned. "I mean, those bodies were screwed up, Dean, even more so than usual. That ghost must be beyond angry in order to cause that kind of damage."

"I don't like this Sam—" Dean began with a sigh.

"We have to help—!" Sam protested.

"Sammy, we need to keep you safe—" Dean protested.

"Uh, boys?" Amber's shaky voice interjected. The two boys followed her and gaze and turned around. A ghostly woman in a ripped dress stared at them with black eyes as blood dripped off her hands.

"Damn it!" Dean cursed.

Looks like getting rid of the ghost just became a vital part of the plan to keep Sam safe.

_**Author's Note: **__Poor Dean! He just wants to keep Sam safe . . . So, did you like it? Please review!_


	5. Plans

_**Author's Note: **__Hi everyone! Hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

"Oh my God," Amber breathed as she her eyes met the spirit. "Is she . . . Ah mean, is that a ghost?" The spirit remained rooted in her place, ectoplasm dripping to the floor as her coal black eyes glared at Amber. For some reason—one that Dean couldn't fathom—the spirit made no move towards them, almost as if she was planning her next move.

"Sam." Dean hissed.

"On it," Sam replied, not needing any more information. He and Dean had always been able to read each other well enough that words were often not required to understand what the other was saying. Dean's tone clearly indicated that Sam needed to get Amber out of here before the spirit decided to attack. "Amber, I need to you to calmly walk over to me, okay? Can you do that?"

"Yeah." The waitress answered, shaking slightly. The spirit of the young woman didn't move and simply regarded the trio. It was clear that she was planning something and Dean had to be careful. If he ticked this spirit off, it would be the end of him and Sam.

"Good," Sam praised as Amber slowly made her way over to the youngest Winchester. "Everything is going to be okay, I promise." If the situation hadn't been so grave, Dean might've smirked. Sam had always been better at being the people person. His puppy dog eyes couldn't be resisted by anyone—Dean included. While Dean went for the more physical aspects of the job, Sam had always been able to connect more emotionally. He was the one who would comfort victims and make sure they were okay.

"Sam," Amber whimpered and Dean could hear the sobs building up in her voice. "Ah don't wanna die."

"No one is dying today," Dean informed her, his eyes never leaving the spirit. "Sam, go." Dean pulled out the pistol he always kept handy. It wouldn't stop the spirit, but it would buy him some time—time they desperately needed to figure out how to vanquish this spirit.

"Dean—" Sam protested, but the eldest Winchester waved off his concerns.

"Give me some credit, Sammy," Dean said with a smirk. "I can handle this for a bit. Get her out of here."

"I will be right back." Sam promised as he and Amber quickly moved to the exit of the restaurant.

"So," Dean began almost conversationally. "Wanna dance?" He pointed the revolver at her and sadness entered her dark eyes. It caught him off-guard, as he had never seen a spirit act like this. Usually, they couldn't wait to kill anyone that dared to interfere with them.

_Help me._

Her voice surrounded him and echoed off the walls before she vanished, leaving Dean to wonder what the hell had just happened.

* * *

"Just stay here, okay?" Sam told her, a soft smile on his lips. "Dean and I will be right back."

"Okay." Amber replied with a sob. Sam nodded and then quickly ventured back into the dinner. Once she was sure that he was gone, she grinned widely and wiped away her fake tears. That had to have been one of her best performances! She really had both Sam and Dean fooled and now all she had to do was order the spirit to kill Sam and then she would be out of her debt to Gordon.

"Kill Sam Winchester." Amber ordered to the wind as she clutched the little charm that had allowed her to summon the spirit of a Jane Herman—a woman who had found out her husband had cheated on her and then killed him before going on a rampage and killing other cheating husbands. She eventually ended up being killed herself, but her spirit had lingered on, waiting for someone to summon her.

Someone like Amber.

It had been easy to get the right ingredients for the summoning spell and once the spirit had seen Charlie cheating on his wife with the waitress in the kitchen, it had been easy to get her riled enough that Dean would make the decision to try and figure out how to stop her. Add a few tears, play the damsel in distress card, and pretty soon she had the Winchesters in the palm of her hand.

It had all been so easy!

Amber grinned as she sat on the curb of the street and waited for the blood bath to begin.

* * *

"Dean?"

"Still here," Dean called back as Sam stepped back into the restaurant. "Amber alright?"

"Shaken, but safe," Sam replied and he handed his brother a few cartons of salt. The two quickly poured a protective circle around themselves to buy themselves some time until they could figure out what to do. They had no research and no means of figuring out how to stop this spirit. "Got a plan?"

"Nope," Dean answered breezily. "She hasn't seemed to keen on killing me though. She asked me to help her."

"Help her?" Sam echoed, confusing lacing her tone.

"Yeah," Dean said, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not sure how to do that."

"Maybe—" A sudden sharp gust of wind blew the salt circle open and immediately Dean was tossed against the wall. Cursing, he looked up to see the spirit charging towards Sam.

"Sam, drop!" Immediately, Sam flung himself on the ground as Dean fired a bullet at the ghost. She flickered out of existence, which gave Dean enough time to rush to his brother's side. "You okay?"

"Fine," Sam answered. "Thought you said she wanted help?"

"Changed her mind?" Dean ventured, though he found the spirit's change in demeanor weird. It was like she had done a complete 180—had gone from wanting to be stopped to _I-will-kill-you-both-if-it's-the-last-thing-I-do_. What had caused the change though?

_Help me!_

Her voice was a screech and Dean instinctively knew that something was wrong here. This spirit didn't want to kill them and it seemed like she was being forced to move. She wore a painful expression on her face—almost as if she was fighting against some unknown force. Her eyes locked onto Sam and determination filled her expression and Dean felt his heart fall.

She was after Sam.

Almost as if she knew he was onto to her, she waved her hand and flung Dean out of one of the glass windows of the restaurant. Dean felt the glass bite into his skin and cursed as his body connected harshly with the ground. Forcing himself back to his feet, he was a bit disoriented and his vision blurred. Concussion, he deduced.

"Dammit." He growled. He didn't need this right now, not when Sam was up against a spirit that seemed hell-bent on ending him. Dean summoned his strength and forced himself to move to the front door. Yanking on it, he was angry when it didn't budge. Hearing a gunshot inside, Dean decided that he didn't have the luxury of time right now and quickly climbed back through the broken window.

_Help me!_

She held Sam's neck in a death grip. Sam struggled weakly, but he was running out of air and Dean could tell from the color his skin was turning that they didn't have much time. Picking up the gun, which Sam must have discarded, he fired one shot at her. She vanished and Sam slumped to the ground, sucking in as much oxygen as he could.

"D'n." Sam wheezed as Dean knelt down to give him a cursory once-over.

"Don't talk," Dean ordered. "Just breathe." Sam nodded his head and Dean quickly stood up and glanced around for the spirit.

"You want help?" Dean shouted. "Then, stop trying to hurt us! We can help you if you just calm down—" She flickered into existence directly in front of him and Dean almost jumped in surprise.

_Stop me, please. _

A metal object fell to the floor and Dean recognized the insignia carved on it—a summoner's seal. Someone had summoned this spirit and forcing her to go after Sam? As much as he wanted details, Dean knew that he didn't have much time. Grabbing the seal, he rushed to the kitchen and grabbed a blowtorch that had been left on the counter. Salting the charm first, he quickly burned it.

_Thank you._

Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, but she sounded so happy and relieved that Dean couldn't help but nod his head in acknowledgement. Returning back to his baby brother, he grinned when he saw that Sam appeared to be much better. His breathing had evened out and his color was back.

"She's gone?" Sam questioned and Dean nodded as he helped haul Sam to his feet.

"Someone summoned her."

"What?"

"And," Dean hesitated a bit before deciding that he needed to tell Sam the rest. The last time he had hid a secret for Sam's own protection, Sam had run away and almost ended up being killed by Gordon. That wasn't something Dean was keen on repeating anytime soon. "I think whoever summoned her wanted to kill you."

Silence.

"What?"

"She went straight for you, Sammy," Dean explained as Sam tried to process what was being said. "She wasn't interested in me, just you."

"That doesn't mean anything." Sam protested weakly, but Dean could see the wheels turning in Sam's brain as his brother came to terms on what was being said. Grimacing, Sam turned towards the door.

"Sam—" Dean called, but it was too late.

Sam had already walked out the door.

* * *

"Sam!" Amber exclaimed as she ran over to him. "You're alive!"

"How are you?" Sam questioned, trying not to let Dean's latest discovery faze him.

"Ah'm fine," She assured him. "A little shaken, but ah'll live. Did you get rid of the ghost?"

"Yeah," Sam replied. "She's gone."

"That's good." Amber remarked as Dean walked out from the dinner. The two brothers shared a look that spoke volumes before Sam finally nodded his head and headed over to where the Impala was parked.

"Set the whole place on fire," Dean instructed. "I messed with some of the wires so when the Fire Marshall inspects it, it will look like a problem with the electrical system." Amber nodded her head and Dean began to walk away.

"Wait!" She shouted. "Are you two leaving?" Dean nodded his head and Amber smiled bitter sweetly.

"Thank you for saving my life," She told him sincerely. "And I hope I see you around." Dean shot her a small smile.

"Yeah," He told her. "See you."

With that, he got into the Impala and took off to the motel room.

They were leaving this town tonight.

* * *

To say Amber was pissed was an understatement.

She was beyond furious that her perfect, flawless plan had been ruined. Sam had gotten away with barely a scratch! She couldn't allow this demon to leave town—who knew when she would have another chance to get him? She had to come up with a better plan and soon. Watching the flames consume the dinner, she wondered what she was going to do.

She had to kill Sam Winchester tonight.

The question was how to do it?

Pulling out her cellphone, she punched her speed dial and waited for the familiar voice on the other end of the line.

"Hi, it's Amber," She said perkily. "Listen, I need some advice on how to kill this one demon . . ."

* * *

"No." Sam protested.

"Sam, we're leaving tonight." Dean growled as Sam pulled out another glass shard from his big brother's arm.

"Not with your concussion we're not," Sam retorted as he got another shard out. "You want us to die in a car wreck? Unless you want me to drive—"

"Hell no!" Dean exclaimed. "The last time you rode my baby, you almost crashed into a tree."

"Dude, I was bleeding out!"

"I know! The stains took forever to come out!" Sam sighed and then pulled out the last shard.

"There. All done."

"Good." Dean moved his arm experimentally and then cursed as pain coursed through his system.

"See?" Sam pointed out. "You couldn't drive with that arm."

"Sam—"

"No, Dean," Sam snapped, his eyes deadly serious. "We're staying the night, okay? No one is after us and we both could use the rest."

"But the summoner—" Dean argued and Sam waved his concern off.

"Dean, please," Sam pleaded, his puppy dog eyes meeting his gaze. "Please, just one night."

"Dammit, Sam," Dean cursed because he had never been able to resist those stupid eyes. "One night. That's it." Sam grinned and Dean felt a bit relieved himself. He was pretty tired and his head was pounding pretty badly. A night resting would do them some good.

Besides what could go wrong in one night?

Dean relaxed into the bed and let his worries leave him.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__Oh, Dean, if only you knew . . . So, anyone want to take a guess as to what Amber's plan is? Please review! _


	6. Revelation

_**Author's Note: **__Hi everyone! It's been awhile, but here's a new chapter! Please enjoy!_

* * *

They didn't sleep.

It wasn't like they didn't want to sleep—Sam's neck was killing him after being choked and Dean's arm hurt like hell—but for some reason, the two brothers couldn't relax enough to fall asleep. So, they laid there in the darkness, both staring up at the ceiling.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean called, not even bothering to whisper. The premise of sleep had long ago been abandoned.

"Yeah?" His little brother replied, tone light though Dean could sense the worry coming off of him in waves. The ghost had done a number on both of them and Dean knew it wasn't just physical. Sure, they were both sporting injuries that were going to take awhile to heal, but the summoner's seal concerned both of them. Sam—being the idiotic little brother he was—would blame himself somehow and would want to keep Dean out of danger. Dean would refuse of course, because, hello, taking care of Sam was his job—his duty—and he would never willingly give it up.

"Why aren't you asleep?" It wasn't what he had wanted to ask, but he had a harder time of initiating a chick-flick moment than Sam.

"Because you're talking to me." Sam retorted and Dean chuckled dryly.

"Smart ass."

"Learned from the best." The elder Winchester smiled at that, a swell of pride filling him.

"Hell yeah you did."

A pause passed. Sam shifted uncomfortably on his bed, his mind racing with so many thoughts, so many doubts. What if Dean had been right? What if someone had summoned the ghost to kill him? But then again, would do that? Unless Gordon was out of jail—

He sucked in a breath as he processed the ramifications of that thought. Had Gordon managed to get out of jail? No, they would have known about it, wouldn't they? Ellen or Bobby would've called. Still . . .

"Sam? You gonna tell me what horrible thought just filled that geeky brain of yours?" Dean's tone was light, but Sam had learned that it was only masking the worry that his brother felt. Gordon's attack had caused his older brother to become even more protective than usual. It felt like Dean was always watching him, waiting to catch him if he fell, waiting to take the hit if someone attacked him. On normal days, it annoyed Sam. He was a grown man and he knew how to take care of himself! Still, if he were really honest with himself, it made him feel safer knowing Dean had his back. He wouldn't admit it, but being attacked by another hunter had done a number on him. Finding out his dad had asked Dean to kill him if he went evil was bad enough, having it confirmed by another hunter who was convinced that Sam was the anti-Christ had been even worse. What if he was evil? What if he was a time bomb waiting to go off? "Sam?"

"Do you think Gordon had anything to do with the ghost today?" Sam asked quickly.

"No." Dean answered without even a moment of hesitation.

"No?"

"No."

"How do you know?" Sam pressed and Dean smirked. Leave to Sam to want to know all the details instead of just taking his big brother's word for it.

"Because Gordon would've wanted us to know it was him," He shifted on his bed, uncomfortable with discussing the subject of the rogue hunter that had almost managed to blow up his baby brother. "He wouldn't have summoned a ghost. No, this would've been personal. He would've wanted to take you down with his own two hands."

"So . . ." Sam's voice trailed off, almost as if he was gathering his thoughts before asking his next question. "Who summoned her then?"

"I don't know," Dean confessed, a brief spike of anger filling him. Nobody hurt Sam and got away with it—human or not. Anyone who attacked his brother deserved to be tortured and in some cases, killed. No one hurt his family without facing the consequences. "Amateur, probably. Leaving the seal behind was a rookie mistake."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "We should figure out who did it before they try to—"

"No," He interjected. "The ghost is gone. We're out of here in the morning."

"But Dean, we can't just—"

"This is not up for discussion, Sam." Dean growled, summoning up some of the fury into his tone that John had often used whenever he had been giving orders. It was a low blow—Sam hated being ordered around—but they couldn't risk staying in this town one more day. As much as Dean wanted to punish the idiot that had dared to lay a finger on his brother, it wasn't worth risking Sam's life over.

"Dean—" Sam protested, voice desperate.

"Go to sleep, Sam."

With that, he flipped onto his other side, effectively ending the conversation and stubbornly shut his eyes, praying that sleep would somehow miraculously come. He heard the door open and was about to say something when his brother interjected:

"I'll be right in the parking lot. I just need some air." The door then shut behind him.

Despite his better instincts, Dean didn't go after him.

* * *

_"He isn't dead yet?" _

"Not yet, sugah," Amber cooed into the telephone, smiling at the men grinning at her as they entered the bar across the street from the payphone that she was using. "They burned my seal."

_"Dammit, Amber," _Gordon hissed. _"Why the hell did you leave your seal where they could get it?" _The blonde hunter shrugged.

"Slipped my mind, honey," Amber replied. "But don't you worry, ah've got a bigger plan in store for those two boys." She twirled the cord around her finger and hummed a happy tune to herself.

_"And that plan is?" _Gordon prompted.

"Now, if ah told you, it wouldn't be a surprise!" She admonished gently.

_"I'm getting tired of your games, Amber," _He snapped, voice deadly and Amber froze, tendrils of fear gripping her. He had used that tone once before with her, on the night that he had saved her, on the night that she swore that she would somehow repay him. _"If you don't kill Sam, I'll get someone who will." _

"No," She interjected, worry spilling into her voice. "No, ah can do this. Ah really can."

_"Two days, Amber," _He snapped. _"If he isn't dead by then, I'll get out. And once I'm done with him, I think I'll pay you a visit too." _

With that, the line went dead and Amber tried to steady her breathing. Gordon would follow through on his threat—she had no doubt about that. She had to kill Sam or she would be next. She owed Gordon this! If she did this job, they'd finally be even. She had killed humans before. It wasn't hard; all it required was a bit more finesse and a sense of good timing.

Composure regained, she smiled.

It was time to go kill Sam Winchester.

* * *

"Sam?"

The voice caught him off-guard and he spun around, knife ready to face off against his would-be intruder. Amber threw her hands up and panic flashed in her eyes. "Easy!" Sam lowered the knife and put it away and Amber came to stand beside him in the motel parking lot.

"Sorry," He told her sheepishly, but she simply waved off his apology. "How are you doing?"

"Okay," She replied, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "It's not everyday you find out ghosts are real."

"Yeah," Sam agreed with a dry chuckle. "But you should be fine now. She's gone."

"I wanted to thank you again," Amber started, grinning at him. "And I also found something that I think you should see. Would you come with me?" Her pleading eyes met his and Sam hesitated. He should get Dean. After all that happened, Dean would be pissed if he just took off somewhere without telling him. Mind made up, he nodded his head.

"Yeah, just let me get Dean." He turned his back to her and had his hand on the door when he felt the sharp pain of a needle being jabbed into his neck. Instantly, his vision grayed and he swayed. It was almost as if both his knees were broken and he could no longer stand up.

"Sorry, Sam," Amber told him cheerfully. "Ah think we'll have more fun if it's just the two of us, don't you think?"

And with that, Sam blacked out.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__And Amber's plan finally goes into action! Next chapter, Dean finds out Sam is missing! Will he figure out Amber is responsible before it's too late? Prepare for some major limp!Sam and hurt!Sam coming your guys' way! If you have a second, please review! I always love to get feedback! _


	7. Taken

_**Author's Note: **__Fair warning, there is a bit of torture in here. If you dislike that, you might want to skip Sam's sections of this chapter. Sorry for the long delay! Real life has been so busy. I'm really excited to be posting this chapter as I put a lot of hard work into it. Anyways, please enjoy!_

* * *

When Sam came to, he was tied to a wooden chair and cursed with a pounding headache. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog out from his brain. He couldn't remember exactly what he was doing here or where he had been before. Panic coursed through his veins as his heart began to pound furiously. Biting his lower lip, the youngest Winchester tried to get a grip on himself.

_Never panic, Sam, you hear me? It'll make you sloppy. It'll get you killed. _

His father's strong voice filled his mind and brought a sense of calm. He could handle this. He had been taught how to deal with situations like these. He just had to focus. Immediately, he scanned the area. It was dimly lit but from the bits and pieces he could see, it appeared that he was in a warehouse of sorts. There was no external light so Sam assumed that it was still early morning, which meant he hadn't been gone too long. Racking his brain, he searched for the memory how he had ended up here, but nothing came to him.

"Well, look who's awake." A voice drawled and instantly it came back to him. Amber meeting him outside the motel room, convincing him to go with her, and then jabbing a needle in his neck.

"Amber." He hissed, summoning as much rage as he could in his tone. She stepped into the light, a smirk on her ruby red lips. Her blonde hair had been put up in a bun and she was wearing a white apron, which covered her t-shirt and blue jeans.

"Hi there, Sammy." She greeted.

"Don't call me that." He snapped and she chuckled.

"My, my, someone's fussy," She chuckled and then bent down to be at eye-level with him. "Sorry about that back at the motel. Ah just couldn't have you gettin' Dean." She brushed some of his hair aside and he turned his head instantly. Infuriated, she punched him hard. "Don't be rude, Sam. Ah'm doin' you a favor."

"Yeah?" He challenged, his lip split. "And what favor would that be?"

"Ah'm gonna kill you so your brother doesn't have to." Shock filled Sam's expression and Amber knew she had hit her mark. She pulled a knife out of the pocket of her apron and wistfully sighed as it reflected the light.

"Why?" Sam finally asked. She met his gaze, confident in what she was doing, knowing that this had to be done—that Sam Winchester had to die.

"Because you're not normal," She started and Sam's eyes fell to the floor. "Are you, Sam?" She twirled the knife in one hand as she circled around the chair. The youngest Winchester struggled with the ropes, to no avail. "Don't bother. Ah was taught by the best. You're not gettin' out unless ah untie you."

"Yeah?" He challenged and she smiled. It was such a shame that this man had to die. She had grown to like Sam Winchester's defiant spirit. It was a side of him that she had never seen before and she would be lying if she didn't admit that she was attracted to it. In another life, maybe they could've been together.

"Gordon told me all about you," At this revelation, Sam's eyes widened and the color drained from his face. "Good, you still remember him?"

"He's crazy." Sam retorted, a spark of his earlier defiance still evident in his eyes.

"Maybe," Amber conceded. "But he is a damn good hunter. He saved me, Sam. Ah owe him everything for that." She stopped her circling and stood before him. "Which is why ah'm gonna do this for him."

"You don't have to." Sam told her, voice pleading and she almost broke a little. He was still human on some level—that much Gordon had told her—but inside him was something evil. Maybe he wouldn't give into the dark force today, but someday he would and the world would pay the price for it. That's why she had to do this—to keep everyone safe, to repay her debt. She would be out after this. She could finally part ways from Gordon and go hunt on her own terms.

"You're evil, Sam," Amber spat, hardening her heart against him. "You have to die." She stepped closer, knife in hand. Then, softly, "Don't worry. Ah'll make sure your brother gets your body."

"Amber," There was something in his tone that stirred up something within her. She hesitated. Could Gordon be wrong? Could Sam Winchester be normal? "Don't do this."

Gordon's face filled her mind and instantly, she was decided. She couldn't afford to become the next person on his hit list. Besides, Sam wasn't normal and if he were, he wouldn't be for very long.

"Ah'm sorry, Sam," She said with a sigh. "It's out of my hands." She cut one of his wrists and he hissed in pain. "Ah'll try to make it quick." Crimson blood flowed out of the wound, staining the ropes holding him and the floor. Nodding to herself, Amber put her silver knife away. She still had a few more tests to do—Gordon would want to know all the details, just in case he came across another person like Sam—but soon it wouldn't matter.

Blood loss would kill Sam Winchester.

* * *

It was the noise of a truck speeding away that finally got Dean up and out of bed ten minutes after his brother said he needed some air. Cursing against the cold, Dean threw on his jacket and jeans and headed outside, ready to drag his little brother back to bed if he had to.

There was no one outside.

Frowning, Dean did a double take and surveyed the parking lot. Had Sam gone for a run? No, he would've said something and besides, it was freezing out there. So, that left one question—where the hell was his little brother?

"Sam?" Dean called. "Sammy?"

His only response was the wind.

"Yes, sir," A woman was shouting into a phone. "I saw her take that young man!" A pause and then exasperated, she threw her hands up. "Yes, I'll hold!" She was pacing the parking lot in a t-shirt and shorts, visibly shaking. Dread filled the pit of Dean's stomach. She couldn't have been talking about Sam, could she?

"Ma'am!" Dean exclaimed, crossing the gap to where she stood. "What did you see?"

"You're the other man in the room." She whispered.

"What did you see?" He asked again, panic and urgency in his voice.

"I saw your friend get taken by this woman."

"What woman?" Dean questioned, suppressing the fury that was boiling up in him, because dammit, Sam was supposed to be safe with him!

"I didn't get a good look," The woman shrugged apologetically. "I just saw her take your friend away. She got into a truck, but I couldn't make out the details." She grimaced. "I'm sorry for not being able to do more."

"No," Dean insisted. "You've helped a lot." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to process what he had just been told—how Sam had been kidnapped right outside their motel room.

"If the damn police would just listen—" She sighed. He didn't stay any longer, pulling out his own cellphone and instinctively dialing Bobby. The gruff hunter was probably asleep, but Dean didn't care. Sam had been taken from him and getting him back alive was all that mattered.

_"Singer." _Bobby mumbled tiredly.

"Bobby—!" Dean exclaimed, heading back to the room. If he was lucky, maybe he could trace the GPS in Sam's cellphone—

Which was on the counter in the room. So much for that idea.

_"Dean? Do you have any idea what time it is, ya idjit?"_ Dean could hear a light switch being flicked on and a bit of relief swelled within him. He wasn't alone in this. He could do this—he could save Sam.

"Sam's been taken," He explained hurriedly. "I don't know who did, but Bobby—"

_"Okay, calm down," _Bobby soothed, ever the voice of reason. _"We'll get him back. Now, where are you?" _Distractedly, Dean told him while he pulled up Sam's laptop, wondering if there were any clues in there. _"Dean? Were you listening?" _

"What?"

_"I'll be there in two hours," _The older hunter repeated. _"Just stay put and don't do anything stupid." _

With that he hung up and Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. This was too close—too soon—to be unrelated to Gordon. Maybe his "roadhouse connections" had come after Sam for revenge? If that were the case, then he was up against another hunter.

A hunter that could kill Sam in an instant.

"Dammit, Sammy." Dean cursed, trying to suppress his panic and worry. He would get his brother back.

Sam was coming back home to him—alive—if it was the last thing Dean did.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__Next chapter, more on Amber's association with Gordon, Bobby shows up, and Dean gets closer to finding out to who took Sam! Will he make it in time? If you have a second, please review! I'd love to hear what you thought! _


	8. Monster

_**Author's Note: **__Hi everyone! I'm finally back to work on this story! Sorry for the long delay. Please note that from now on, this story will feature some minor torture. If this bothers you in any way, you might want to skip Sam's sections for a bit. Please enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

"Hmmm," Amber murmured as she poured the holy water over Sam's head. It washed some of the blood off of his chest from the numerous wounds she had inflicted over the past hour—each cut a different way of checking for a certain supernatural creature—and the young hunter bit his lip to suppress a moan from coming out as the water hit his open wounds. "Well, no reaction to holy water." She made a little note on the piece of paper that she had managed to drag out from the mess that was her purse. Her apron was spotted in blood and she grimaced as she realized that her gloves were completely drenched. She would need to change them before they continued. "It's like you're almost human, Sam."

"I am," He hissed, still defiant though his voice was drained. Blood loss would do that to you. In fact, Amber was surprised he was even conscious at all. The cuts she had made into his wrists had been deep, but apparently not deep enough. She didn't relish the idea of having to cut deeper, but if that was what was required of her, she would do it. "Amber—" A feeling akin to guilt coursed through her veins at the sound of how truly pitiful his voice sounded.

"It'll be over soon, Sam." She attempted to comfort him, though she mentally kicked herself for doing so. He was a monster! Gordon had told her what Sam Winchester would become and she was doing all of humanity a service by killing him. Truly, this was what was best for all parties involved, especially Sam. Dying by her hand was better than dying by his brother's hand. If Amber were in Sam's place, she would be grateful that an outside party was taking care of this because she wouldn't be able to bear the pain of watching her loved one pull the trigger.

This was best.

"Why?" He wheezed, his words slurring as his eyes drooped.

"Why what?" Her hands hovered above the salt, wondering if she should wait until he was unconscious before sprinkling some salt in his wounds.

"Why are you doing this?" With a strength that she hadn't know he had within him, he met her gaze. His hazel eyes locked onto hers and she felt compelled to answer him. He was on his deathbed, for pity's sake. Could she really deny him this?

"For Gordon." She replied, her fingers brushing the container of salt.

"Why?" He pressed. Amber sighed and took a few steps away from him, her eyes locked onto a dark corner of the wall.

"He saved my life. Ah'm in his debt." It was as simple as that. There was no need to elaborate.

"How?" Sam continued, refusing to bow to the effects of blood loss. She could tell his voice was wavering and that it was struggle to remain conscious. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't the least bit impressed by his will.

"He killed my little brother." She spoke quickly, making the words rush together in the hopes that he wouldn't understand.

"Thought you said he died in a hit and run." Sam remarked and she faced him, salt container in her hands.

"He became a monster. He killed my parents. He was going to kill me," She spat, eyes flashing with murderous intent. Forget pity. She was going to make Sam Winchester pay for bringing this up. He was going to suffer before he died. All monsters deserved to suffer. Who knew how many deaths that Sam had caused? Who knew how many families had been torn apart by him? "Gordon killed him and then taught me how to fight back."

"M'not a monster," Sam's eyes drooped as he began to list to one side. "Gordon is."

"Shut up." She growled.

"Amber, you don't have to do this," His eyes were falling close now, though he seemed to desperately fighting for consciousness. "You're not like him. You're not a killer."

"Enough!" She poured salt in his wound and Sam's eyes flew open as a moan of pain passed through his lips. Amber smiled, pleased by herself. "You're the monster, Sam." There was no reaction from the salt and Amber sighed as checked that off her list.

Well, she still had plenty of other things to check for.

* * *

"You need to calm down—"

"Calm down?" Dean exploded, his pacing forgotten for a moment as he spun on the older hunter. "Bobby, I almost lost Sam to Gordon and if another hunter has him—"

"Just take a few deep breaths," Bobby ordered gently, his expression uncharacteristically soft. "You yelling at everyone isn't gonna solve anything." Dean sighed and carded a hand through his hair. The two of them had canvased the whole town and aside from that one witness, no one had seen Sam or knew who took him. They had no leads and a huge suspect pool full of hunters.

"Bobby, I just can't . . ." His voice faded and the gruff family friend placed a strong hand on his back.

"Your brother's a fighter," He assured Dean. "He'll hang on until we get to him."

"I know," The eldest Winchester breathed. "It's just . . . it's just too close, you know?" Bobby nodded his head. When he had arrived, Dean had quickly explained the near-fatal encounter with Gordon and after chewing Dean out for not telling him—_Idjit! You think that just because Sam sees the future that I'll start hunting him? Jesus, Dean, I've know you two since you were kids! Something like this happens, you call me!_—he had begun to mentally go down his list of hunters that he knew. All of them were suspects, but some more than others. If only they could narrow their search . . .

"Just tell me what you two have been doing." Having a task seemed to calm Dean greatly and he recited in careful detail what he and his little brother had been up to. "Wait, Amber?"

"You know her?" Dean questioned.

"Not personally," Bobby admitted. "But word is she was Gordon's apprentice for a few years. She struck out on her own two years ago."

"Well, let's go pay her a visit." Dean hissed, murderous intent flashing in his eyes. Bobby nodded his head and silently wished that Amber had nothing to do with this. She was a young girl and her backstory had one that could rival any sob story. He hadn't blamed her for going with Gordon—the rest of her family had been killed—but God help her if she was behind this. Sob story or not, crossing a line like this was one that warranted a severe punishment. Bobby doubted that Dean would hesitate if it came down to shooting her and the gruff hunter would help if necessary. He thought of these two boys of his own and Sam was hurt, than he would make Amber pay once Dean was done dealing with her.

Family didn't end with blood.

And if Amber was behind this, it was time to teach her that lesson.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__I hope you enjoyed! Please review if you have a second! _


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